


Fortune's Wheel

by fardareismai2



Series: What's Past Is Prologue [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Forbidden Love, M/M, Season 4 Compliant(ish), Sexual Content, Trigger Warning In Notes, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai2/pseuds/fardareismai2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m going to tell you something that even the Argents and Hales don’t know. I’m not sure any other emissaries who knew are still alive. It begins, like all other things, with a love story."</p><p>The beginning and the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune's Wheel

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third and final chapter in the series. If you haven't read parts 1 and 2, it won't make much sense to you. This takes place during season 4, and while I try to keep as much as I can canon, it is obviously canon divergent. There is a possibly triggering situation, so if you're concerned read the notes at the end. 
> 
> Shakespeare continues to pay the price for my titles. 
> 
> Obviously, none of these characters are mine. I just like to mess with them.

My undying gratitude to [MeraNaamJoker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MeraNaamJoker), [FandomHopper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomHopper), and [Thraceadams](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Thraceadams/pseuds/Thraceadams) for their fuckawesome beta skills. Any mistakes still here are entirely mine.

* * *

 

_ "Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,  
In yours and my discharge."  _

William Shakespeare, _The Tempest._  


 

Chris clutches his gut as he slides into the car with Parrish. The deputy wants to take him straight to the hospital, but Chris knows there isn’t time—not if they’re going to save Scott and catch Kate. He directs Parrish to the Calaveras instead, knows the hunters will have a good medic. He has a deal to shore up anyway.

Parrish is a good kid, or man, or superman—even Parrish doesn’t know what Parrish is—and he does what Chris asks. He just doesn’t do it as silently as Chris would like.

“Why didn’t he kill you?” 

“Still not a hundred percent sure he hasn’t,” Chris wheezes.

“That’s it. We’re going to the hos—”

“No. Bad joke. Sorry.”

Parrish eyes him, assessing. “So, Peter?” 

Chris sighs and looks out the window. He doesn’t know how much he wants to share, but he thinks he owes Parrish an answer of some kind.

“Peter and I have a history.” 

“When you say history…?”

Chris rolls his head to the side and stares at the deputy. _He’s so young_ , Chris thinks. As young as Chris was when he met Peter. As idealistic too. When Parrish looks over at him, Chris raises an eyebrow and quirks a corner of his lip. 

“Oh. Oh!”

If it didn’t hurt so damn much, Chris would laugh at the shocked expression on Parrish’s face. Instead, he presses against the makeshift field dressing the deputy bandaged him with.

“Hell hath no fury,” Parrish intones.

“He gets it in one.”

Chris closes his eyes, but instead of the black bliss of unconsciousness, he sees Peter’s face as he bent the rebar, remembers the feel of Peter’s forehead against his, the fan of Peter’s breath across his skin as he told Chris to rest. The sound of Peter’s footsteps echoing in the sewer, and the press of Peter’s lips against his when he turned back and whispered, “Damn you, Argent. Damn you.”

*************************************

_Her laugh is brazen. It lacks any of the tittering, simpering tone that the other girls at the party have. Normally he wouldn’t even be at a party like this, but his family is new in town, and he needs to meet people, blend into the local population. He watches her move through the crowd. She’s no mere slip of a girl—her dark hair spills wildly over her shoulders, and her ass is enticingly encased in shiny disco pants that also showcase strong, shapely legs._

_Jesus, she’s the hottest girl he’s ever laid eyes on and he wants, wants with a suddenness and desperation that he isn’t used to. He is well past the age of lustful crushes, but this girl revs his engines like no one he’s ever seen before._

_He grabs two drinks and makes his way over to her. He hands her one saying, “Drink?”_

_She takes it and smiles._

_He extends his hand, “Gerard, and you are?”_

_“Talia. Thanks for the drink.”_

_He leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “You are the most beautiful woman here.”_

_Her nostrils flare and she pulls away, takes a step back. “Uh, thanks. And thanks again for the drink, but I’ve gotta go.” She sets her drink down, turns and walks away._

_Gerard is embarrassed and angry. He looks around to see if anyone noticed, when a younger, black kid walks up to him with a smirk on his face._  

_“What are you laughing at?” Gerard asks. Anger simmers just beneath the surface, but he is better trained than to beat up a high school kid._

_The kid shakes his head. “You never had a chance,” he tells Gerard._

_“What would you know about it?”_

_“I’d say that the only reason she didn’t walk away from you sooner, is that the scent of so many bodies in one place masked the smell of the wolfsbane you probably have in your pockets.”_

_Gerard stares at the kid. “Who are you?”_

_The kid smiles. “I’m Alan. Alan Deaton. My mother is emissary to the Hales. And that?” he points in the direction Talia exited. “That was Talia Hale. Daughter of the current alpha.”_

_“She’s a—”_

_“And you are an Argent,” Deaton interrupts. “So really, you never had a chance.”_

  _****************************************_

“Do you really think you won’t be coming back?”

“Not alive,” Derek responds.

“I’m not okay with that,” Braeden tells him. 

Derek kisses her, soft and sweet. “I am,” he tells her. “If it saves Scott and Kira.” And Derek can practically hear Stiles yelling at him, telling him not to be a martyr, but Derek means it. 

His life has been a series of disasters, starting with Paige and barreling right through all the events that have led him to this moment—where he is kissing a woman he thinks he could love, someday. Maybe. If he could just burn Stiles out from under his skin—but he can’t. 

Instead, he’ll give Stiles this gift. He’ll do everything he can to return Stiles’s best friend—his brother in all but name—to him. It will be the last, best thing he can do for Stiles, because he can’t be a part of Stiles’s life, not like he wants; he’s too old and too damaged, and Stiles is too young and has so much potential. Too much potential to waste on someone like Derek. He’s going to ignore Peter’s advice on the matter because, well, he’s Peter. 

If he’s lucky, and let’s face it, luck has never been Derek’s strong suit, he’ll make it back and then he’ll leave with Braeden—try to make it work with her.

Peter comes downstairs then, and offers to help, and that’s when Derek realizes that Peter is a part of this—Derek just isn’t sure how, but he can hear the almost lie when Peter mentions Argent—and Derek doesn’t trust Peter as far as he can throw him. Which, given the state of his powers, isn’t far, but Peter never does anything without an endgame, so he must have a pretty big horse in this race if he’s helping now.

_****************************************_

_“Why didn’t anyone tell me there were hunters in Beacon Hills?” Talia demands._

_Her father, her alpha, raises an eyebrow at her, and she has the decency to pretend to look abashed for her rude tone._

_Alan wants to laugh at how fake her contrition looks, but he knows that would be inappropriate and his mother would send him out of the room. Talia is with them now, so close, and he really, really doesn’t want to be sent away._

_“Now,” the alpha continues, “just how did you find out there were hunters in Beacon Hills?”_

_Talia hesitates, an obvious attempt to stall._

_“Talia.” The voice is quiet, but firm. It’s all alpha tones—demanding._

_“One of them brought me a drink at the party tonight.”_

_Alan bites his lip._

_“The party your mother told you not to go to?”_

_Talia’s eyes flash. “It was just a party! I’m not a child. I’m almost seventeen. Even by human standards it’s old enough to go to a party!”_

_“And yet, you ran into a hunter.”  
_

_“I . . . but . . . it wasn’t . . .”_

_Alan sees the moment she capitulates, not that Talia ever really surrenders, but it’s the moment where he sees her weigh the pros and cons of her current situation and cut her losses. He thinks that singular ability—to know when not to push too hard, and when to push just enough—is what is going to help her become one of the greatest alphas in decades._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_Her father beckons her closer. “You are going to help your mother with dinner every night this week. No exceptions."_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Now, Alan tells me you ran into Gerard Argent.”_

_Alan shrugs at the look Talia shoots him and mouths “sorry.”_

_Talia rolls her eyes at him, and then looks at her dad. “He’s an Argent? They follow the Code, don’t they?”_

_“They do,” Alan’s mother replies. “They’re an old, respected family. I see no reason for there to be trouble.”_

_Alan trusts his mother’s judgment, he does, but there was something about Gerard Argent that didn’t feel right. He knows his sister would laugh at him, and tell him that it’s because of his crush on Talia, but he has a bone deep feeling about this._  

_*****************************************_

Chris hasn’t told Araya anything about Parrish, but he doesn’t like the way the Calaveras eye him as they patch Chris up. He keeps them focused on Kate instead.

“Have you ever gone up against _berserkers_?” he asks them.

Araya shakes her head. “My father did, before I was born. He told me stories, but . . .”

“But stories aren’t enough. You’ll need all the firepower you have, and even that might not be enough. They’re not men, not anymore. Whatever magic creates them is strong. If you can get close enough to tear off their helmet, or their head, you can kill them. But no one survives getting that close to them.”

“Then how do we stop them?” Parrish asks.

“I need to get to Kate. She’s controlling them. Stop her and we stop them.” He hisses as their medic finishes stitching him up. 

“You should be resting now, not chasing _La Loba_ ,” the medic tells him. 

Chris grunts. “If I had a dime for all the things I _should_ have done, I’d be a rich man.”

Araya scoffs. “You are a rich man.”

“Not in the ways that matter,” he tells her.

They’re about a half hour into the drive to Mexico when Parrish says, “I’m sorry about your daughter.”

The words shouldn’t gut him the way they do. It’s been months since Allison’s death, and he’s been coping. He’s kept busy—Kate, berserkers, a serial killer—and the others have moved on as well. Scott has Kira now, and a new pack member. Lydia is obsessed with understanding and controlling her new powers, and Stiles . . . Stiles seems healed, but despite the playful relationship he seems to have with Malia, Chris can see he’s hurting—sees it every time Stiles’s eyes shift to Braeden.

Yet somehow, Parrish’s heartfelt condolence tears something inside him. He doesn’t want to bury anyone else he loves. Chris thinks Peter will never know how wrong he was when he said that emotions don’t touch him. 

He stifles a sob, but he’s pretty sure Parrish hears it anyway. Chris takes a breath and says, “I’ll need your help, Jordan.”

“What’s the plan?”

The vial of yellow liquid in his pocket teases him with possibilities. It’s possible he won’t have to kill Peter. It’s possible he won’t have to kill Kate.

But Chris is still a man who knows, and he knows it’s also possible none of them will survive this.

_****************************************_

_“I suppose I should introduce myself properly. Gerard Argent.”_

_Talia looks at him and smiles. “Talia Hale.” She extends her hand. “I owe you an apology."_  

_Gerard takes her hand in his, and marvels at the warmth and strength he can feel in the slim limb. “No, you don’t.” He’s just happy she’s talking to him._

_“I do. I was rude. It’s just, no one had informed me your family was here. I smelled the wolfsbane and thought you might be a rogue hunter.”_  

_Gerard scoffs. “No. We follow the code, and my father led me to believe that there would be no trouble from the Hales.”_

_Talia looks at him. “Then why are you here?”_

_“Because when a pack becomes as large and powerful as yours, we have to. It keeps a certain . . . balance to things. Besides, if a family like ours wasn’t here to balance out yours, well, then you would get rogue hunters, and that would start a war none of us wants.”_

_“I see.” Talia starts to walk along the shore of the lake. She turns back to him and asks, “So, you’ll be staying here in Beacon Hills?”_

_“I really hope so,” Gerard replies, and they continue to walk along the shore. He can’t help but marvel at the way the sunlight glints off her black hair, and when she laughs at a joke he makes, it’s like a punch to the gut._

_“Talia?”_

_She stops and looks at him. “Yeah?”_

_“I’d really like to kiss you.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yes.” He steps into her space. “Very much.”_  

_“Then what are you waiting for?” she whispers._

_Their kiss starts soft, chaste, but turns heated and filthy in moments. Gerard’s hand is fisted in the lushness of Talia’s hair, and the other is pressed against the small of her back. Talia’s hands don’t stop moving, over his arms, down his chest, fingers digging into his sides, until Talia finally pulls back, her eyes flashing amber._

_“I’m sorry,” she softly lisps as she turns away, and Gerard realizes that she’s fighting back her fangs. Something about that thrills him more than it should._  

_****************************************_

When Chris confronts Kate inside the temple, something inside him breaks. He can’t kill her. No matter what else has happened, she’s his baby sister. She’s the one who birthed Allison, giving him a gift he would never have otherwise had. For her to use Allison’s death against him . . . 

“Who would you die for?” he asks, but he already knows the answer: no one. Kate is selfish and greedy, narcissistic and mad in all the ways their father was. She is truly Gerard’s child.

And still, he can’t do it and she knows it.

He doesn’t try to stop her when she flees, and after she goes, he nearly collapses from the pain in his side and his heart. He sits there for a few moments and thinks. Realizes he can’t kill Peter either, and wonders why the people he loves so much are either crazy or dead. 

Chris thinks that if he ever gets a chance, he might ask Deaton what he knows about previous lives and who he thinks Chris fucked over in his last one, because this kind of karma is just too much. Or, maybe his family is just cursed. Cursed to hunt. Cursed to love the wrong people. Cursed to lose everyone and wind up alone. 

He shakes his head and forces himself to get up. He never did enjoy getting maudlin. It’s time to find the others. To end this. 

_***************************************_  

_Alan knows he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be spying on them. Marin would say he’s being a creeper, but Talia is with_ him _again, with Gerard, and every alarm bell he has is ringing. His gut is telling him something is wrong with the man. Yet there she is, with his head buried between her thighs, and hers thrown back in pleasure. Alan looks away in pain._

_It burns in Alan’s chest, the jealousy—he knows it for what it is, and doesn’t deny it—but it’s more than that. There is a tingle in his fingers and toes, the magic that sparks within him is stirring, uneasy. There is nothing for it now, now that his magic is telling him to be wary. He has to say something. He scrambles down from his perch and the view it afforded him, and goes in search of his mother._  

_The confrontation is explosive._

_Each family has its prejudices regarding the other, and the issue of what Gerard is on the inside isn’t even a blip on their radars. The audacity of a hunter and a wolf to be together? It’s unheard of._  

_Or so Alan thought._  

_“I’m going to tell you something that even the Argents and Hales don’t know. I’m not sure any other emissaries who knew are still alive. It begins, like all other things, with a love story," his mother tells him._

_“In eighteenth century France, there was a young man, a blacksmith. He had come to the province of Gévaudan, alone. Normally villagers were wary of strangers, but an illness had swept through the region and the small village near Mont Mouchet needed a smith._

_“In time, the smith and a girl fell in love. Like many love stories before and since, theirs was a forbidden love. She was the oldest daughter of a renowned local hunter, and betrothed to the son of a local lord. They were to marry when she came of age the following summer._

_“A few years earlier, in the summer of 1764, a series of animal attacks by a wolf or wolf-like beast had begun in Gévaudan. Various people, including special hunters sent by the king, attempted to kill the beast which had attacked a number of people and animals.”_

_“La Bête du Gévaudan,” Alan says._

_His mother smiles at him, but continues her story._  

_“The smith and the girl wed in secret. When the girl’s father discovered them together, he became enraged and tried to kill the smith, who changed before his very eyes. The father would later describe him as a giant wolf, with yellow eyes. When the father attacked, the smith’s new bride stepped in front of the wolf and was killed by her own father._

_“The wolf lunged at him, but the man escaped as the wolf once more became human and cradled his dying wife._  

_“Meanwhile, across the village a pack of wolves entered. They were looking for someone, hunting them. They tracked the scent to the smithy, which was empty and from there to a house. The one they sought was not present, but a woman and three of her children were and the wolves descended upon them viciously._

_“Hours later, after the heinous murders were discovered, a hunting party emerged led by the man who had now lost his wife and all his children. He told no one of his own hand in his daughter’s death, blaming everything, including the murders of his wife and other children, on the smith who was a wolf._

_“It is said that this man, this hunter of renown, destroyed the beast that killed his family.”_

_“But you don’t believe that, do you?” Alan asks._

_“The truth of what happened then is this:a pack of alpha wolves had torn apart an old family pack, a pack as old as the Saxons—the Haelaeh, or as they were known by then, Hale. One survived and the pack was hunting him down. They tracked him to Gévaudan, and terrorized the local population for years before finding him once more._  

_“The smith’s name was Cedric Hale and his unfortunate bride was Isabelle Argent. Hale managed to kill one of the alphas, becoming an alpha in his own right. He then watched as Argent and his band of hunters destroyed the remaining members of the alpha pack, before leaving France for the Americas. So you see, Alan, the Hales and the Argents have been intertwined from the beginning, and hunters and werewolves have mutually hated and distrusted each other since.”_

_“How do you know this? It isn’t in any of the texts or histories.”_

_“We emissaries have existed for centuries, Alan. We have watched and kept the balance when we could. History is always written by the victors, but we are neutral parties. We must be, so that balance, and the truth, won’t be lost._

_“Your great, great, great, great grand-père watched what took place that night, and he followed Cedric Hale to the Americas. The story has been passed from generation to generation in our family, and now it rests with you.”_

_In the end, his mother doesn’t share the story with anyone else, and the Hales and Argents each retreat and maintain an uneasy truce. The Hale alpha sends his daughter away to relatives, and the pain Alan feels in his chest grows exponentially when Talia refuses to look at or speak to him._

************************************

“You changed. Into a wolf.” Stiles stares at Derek. “A wolf, Derek. A full wolf?” There’s an edge of hysteria to his voice. 

Derek wants to laugh, because they’re outside of an ancient temple in the middle of Mexico after defeating berserkers and were-jaguars, and this, this is the thing that is pushing Stiles over the edge. He steps forward to . . . he doesn’t know what he was going to do—just knows that he wants to touch Stiles—but then Braeden is there, by his side. Derek stills, but his hands clench and unclench once in unsatisfied desire.  

“My mother could shift into a full wolf,” Derek says. 

“I know that. But— 

“I was a full coyote when we met,” Malia reminds him.

Stiles turns to her. “Yes, and you were scary!” 

Malia punches him in the arm, Kira snorts, and they all laugh. Stiles’s almost-panic attack seems abated, but then he points at Derek and says, “Don’t think I didn’t hear that you nearly died. You . . . fuck, you need to stop doing that. Just . . . I . . .” and stomps away, swiping furiously at his eyes. 

Malia follows him, and Derek hears her offer to beat him up for Stiles.

Chris looks at him knowingly. “Derek, a word,” he says before stepping off to the side. Far enough away that even the other wolves and the coyote won’t hear him.

Braeden gives his arm a squeeze before he joins Chris.  

“He’s seventeen, Derek.”

“Don’t you think I _know_ that?” Derek whispers in reply. This is not a conversation he wants anyone else overhearing. Besides, why the hell else does Chris think he’s avoiding Stiles as much as possible?

“Does Braeden know you’re using her as a place holder?”

Derek feels his eyes bleed blue for a moment before he gets his anger in check. “She’s not a place holder. I happen to like Braeden. A lot.”

“I loved my wife, Derek. Didn’t change a thing about my feelings for Peter.”

“You and Peter? _You_ and Peter—”

“Were young, and I was stupid. Listen,” he looks over to where everyone is gathered. Derek follows his gaze, sees Araya getting antsy. Sees Stiles biting his thumb. “You didn’t see him when Kate took you. That boy will burn down the world for the people he loves.” He pokes Derek in the chest. “And you . . . just don’t be stupid, okay?” 

Derek is pretty sure he’s never heard Chris say so much in one go. He’s also still trying to wrap his head around the idea of Peter and Chris, but memories from when he was younger are beginning to slot into place; the innuendos the night they found out about Allison. All of it makes crushing sense and it…it hurts.

It hurts in all the ways that it seems the Hales and Argents have been hurting each other for decades. It hurts because Chris’s words are so similar to what Peter told him the day of Allison’s funeral, and because Derek can see the way Chris is struggling not to look at where Peter is unconscious and trussed up like a lamb for slaughter.

Chris grips Derek’s shoulder. “You might not be the alpha anymore, but those kids need you. And you need them. Don’t push them away.” Then he turns and heads back to the group.

Braeden looks at Derek when he steps back to them, but she doesn’t ask and he doesn’t tell. He looks over to hear Chris tell them about the yellow wolfsbane, and the deal he made with the Calaveras. 

*****************************************

_Gerard is furious._

_“What do you mean, he’s your mate? I love you! You love me!”_

_Talia takes a step toward him. “I’m sorry, Gerard. I am. I never meant to hurt you, and when I was sent away I didn’t expect to meet anyone, but for us it’s different, sometimes we just . . . we meet someone and we know.” She shrugs as if it’s so simple, as if it’s nothing that she’s breaking his heart._

_As if it’s nothing that he is defying his father and his entire family by coming to her like this._  

_“Don’t feed me lies about mates. You belong with me.”_

_“I’m not lying, Gerard.” Her voice is soft, placating. “It’s . . . my wolf just knows.”_  

_“Your wolf?” he sneers. “So it’s an animal thing? You’re animals now?”_

_Her face flushes with anger, and he’s missed that, missed that passion. Wants it back._  

_She yells at him, “You asshole! You know that’s not true. Besides, he hasn’t even taken the bite yet!”_

_“He’s a human? So it’s bullshit, all this crap about mates and ‘just knowing.’ You’re mine. Mine!”_  

_Gerard grabs her and kisses her, willing her to remember how good they were together. She uses her not inconsiderable strength to push him off and slaps him._

_“Enough!”_

_“That’s not what you said when you had me between your legs,” he snarls. “No, then it was ‘more’ and ‘faster’ and you were begging,” he spits at her._

_“You’re disgusting,” she tells him. “I don’t know how I ever thought I could love a monster like you.”_

_She turns and starts walking away. He draws the gun and cocks it, but he’s fired before she can finish turning around, and the dart finds its mark in her neck._

_“What?” she manages, just before she hits the ground. He knows the yellow wolfsbane will keep her out for a while._

_“I’m the monster? I don’t think so,” he says as he stares down at her._  

_It’s a full day by the time he’s done with her, and even her werewolf healing can’t conceal the limp in her step, and none of it can cover the smell of him on her._

_The ensuing war between the two families is short and brutal, and Gerard and his remaining siblings are forced to flee Beacon Hills and lick their wounds. His family isn’t happy with him, and his aunt and uncle who assume leadership over the family spend the next several years beating sense, and the Code, into him._

_No matter how bad it got, he stayed, because one doesn’t leave a hunter family, ever. Each slap, each touch of the strap, each crunch of knuckles, and later, each bite, claw mark, and broken bone resonated with one word, and one word only: Hale._

_He would have his revenge. One way or another, he would. He was a patient man. If nothing else, that is the legacy his aunt and uncle left him. He was patient and he would wait for the right time._

_Then Talia Hale would pay for what she’d done to him._

_*****************************************_

Derek and Braeden take charge of Peter; he is Peter’s nephew after all and, therefore, it falls to Derek to transport and commit him to Eichen House. Derek sits in the back of the van, much like he did with Liam and Stiles just hours earlier, only this time it’s to make sure his uncle stays semi-conscious and pliant under the effects of the yellow wolfsbane. 

He probably should have just given him a strong dose to keep him unconscious the entire trip, but Derek has questions—questions only Peter can answer.

“If you wanted to be an alpha so badly, why didn’t you just kill me? That night, when I was healing Cora, you could have killed me before I finished.”

Peter looks at him groggily, blinks a few times, then licks his lips. “Why would I want to kill my own pack? Family?” he slurs.

“You killed Laura.” 

“That wasn’t intent . . . inten . . it wasn’t on purpose. Was crazed. Was hurting . . .” 

“We both know that’s a lie. Try again.”

Peter snarls and shakes his head to clear it, but when he looks up at Derek he’s still bleary eyed. Derek can still hear the slow, drugged tick of his heartbeat. Peter doesn’t need another dose, yet.

“Because . . . you . . . you were still a child when you left. Laura took you. She took you and left me there."

“She was scared and we didn’t know if it was safe to stay,” Derek tells him.

Peter’s eyes shimmer, “She was my alpha and she left me there, alone.”

Derek sits back, stunned. He’d never thought about it in those terms. Knows this display of emotion is one he’d never have gotten if Peter was entirely lucid. Still, it wasn’t the entire truth either, “And you wanted to be an alpha.”

“Yes,” Peter slurs. “Of course I did. I still do. Want to rebuild our family to what it was before my sister let it be laid to waste.”

Leaning forward Derek hisses, “Kate burned us because of you!” 

“And you gave her the key,” Peter retorts.

“I know,” Derek whispers.

They’re silent for a little while, then Derek says, “Stiles keeps trying to convince me it’s not my fault.”

Peter huffed. “Stiles is so in love with you he doesn’t know if he’s coming or going anymore.”After a beat he adds, “And you’re a fucking idiot for not doing something about it.”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Why? Because of her?” Peter jerks his head in the direction of the van’s cab. “Braeden!” he yells. “Hey—”

The bruise from where Derek punches Peter takes a while to heal thanks to the wolfsbane in his system. He grabs Peter by the throat. “You want to talk about love? Let’s talk about love. Let’s talk about you and Chris,” he says, and he injects a bit more of the wolfsbane into Peter’s thigh.

“No.” Peter shakes his head sluggishly.

“Chris.”

“Damn you.”

“It was before Kate, right? Had to be.”

Peter leans back against the wall of the van and closes his eyes. “Yes.”

“You loved him?” 

Derek can see Peter straining not to answer, but the wolfsbane has made him far too pliable. “Yes,” he bites out. 

“You still love him.” It’s not a question this time. It’s suddenly so obvious to Derek. “He was the reason you acted like you did when I was younger. Why you . . . why, Paige,” Derek says with whisper. 

Peter nods. 

“What happened?” 

Peter starts to slide sideways.

“Oh no you don’t. You don’t pass out now.” Derek slaps him. “I want an answer.”

Peter’s eyes open and he attempts a half-hearted, drugged glare. “What do you think happened? Gerard happened!” 

“He found out?” Derek can’t imagine how Peter is still alive if that’s the case.

“No. Found out Chris was sleeping with a man.” Peter is slurring again. “Told him to . . .stop, get married." 

Derek connects the dots. “And Chris did. He chose his family over you.”

Peter nods.  

“Was he . . .” Derek isn’t sure he wants to know. “Is he a mate?” 

“Fuck you.”

“He was. Is. Shit. Peter, I’m sorry.” 

Peter stares at him for a moment. “That’s your problem isn’t it, Derek? You’re always sorry,” he says and then passes out. 

********************************************** 

_“While I admire your willingness to extend an olive branch, I have to tell you, it might not be welcome,” Alan tells Deucalion. He doesn’t tell him why. That’s Talia’s tale if she wishes to tell it._  

_Instead she says, “Actually, I was speaking about the fact that he's a complete psychopath. The man cuts people in half with a broadsword.”_  

_In the decades since Gerard’s attack against Talia, and the subsequent bloodletting between the two families, a simmering détente had existed between the Hales and the Argents, and whenever it seemed that things were bound to boil over, the Argents would leave for a time. The last had been when Gerard’s son married. Now, however, Gerard is back, ostensibly tracking Ennis’s pack, but Alan has not yet had a chance to speak with Talia privately on the matter._  

_Deucalion will not be deterred from his path, and in the years to come, Alan will wonder if he should have pushed Talia to tell him everything, but he’d sworn to her all those years ago that he would never share that story, and he will never break a promise to her._

_In spite of Gerard’s assurances, and in spite of Alan’s attempts to mediate, the meeting between Gerard and Deucalion is an unmitigated disaster. Furthermore, Talia’s young son has been pulled into the maelstrom. Alan is not sure, but he thinks Peter had something to do with it. In any event, a young girl has been killed, and a young wolf has lost his innocence._  

_When the smoke clears, and Gerard finally leaves Beacon Hills once more, Alan and Talia sit together in his office, sipping the tea Satomi brought the last time she came. It is quiet, the new moon outside ensures that the only light comes from the fireplace and the small sconces along the wall._

_Talia breaks the silence first. “Thank you, Alan.”_  

_“For what?”_

_“Alan, even you’re not that modest,” she admonishes. “But, thank you for your help with Paige. That poor girl,” she sighs._  

_“Talia…” he hesitates._

_“What is it, Alan?”_  

_He’s not sure he wants to open this can of worms, but when he became Talia’s emissary, he promised to always speak true._

_“I think Peter had something to do with Paige’s death.”_

_“Why?” Talia asks. “Derek says that Ennis bit her, and that he himself ended her suffering. His eyes are blue, Alan.”_

_Alan studies her face. “You think he’s involved as well.”_  

_“I didn’t say that.”_  

_“You don’t have to. What are you going to do about it?”_  

_Talia takes a long drink of the tea. “I can’t weaken my family, my pack. The Argents have just left, and Gerard . . . he’s not finished here.”_  

_“I know, but Peter is on the verge of something. Something . . . dark, I think. If he hasn’t come to you of his own volition on this, it’s because he doesn’t feel remorse over it. Just, keep an eye on him.”_  

_Talia smiles. “You are a good friend, Alan.”_  

_It’s in these small moments that those long buried pangs surface; when his unrequited love for Talia knocks against his chest and squeezes his heart painfully. He knows she never felt the same, knows there never could have been anything between them, but he will serve her until the day he dies._  

_“I’ll always be here for you."_

_“I know. You always have been,” she pauses. “Thank you for not saying anything to Deucalion . . . about Gerard. It’s . . . private.”_

_“I promised you then that I would never say anything. I never have.”_

_She sets down her mug of tea and leans forward, taking his hand in hers. “I know. I know you would never break your word to me. That’s why I have a favor to ask of you.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“If anything should happen to me, please watch over Derek. He’s . . . he’s not as tough as Laura and Cora, or as cunning as Peter. He’s a romantic. A dreamer—”_

_“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Alan interrupts._

_“Please, Alan, promise me that you’ll look after him,” she squeezes his hand, hard. “Promise me.”_

_“Of course, I will. I promise,” he tells her._

_In the not too distant future, Alan will wonder time and again why she extracted that promise from him. For Derek. Not for Laura or Cora, but Derek. He’ll wonder, but he’ll keep it. Like every promise he ever gave her._

_**************************************_

It’s been three months since _La Iglesia_. Three months of traveling with the Caleveras and chasing stories of Kate all over Mexico and Central America. It’s time to take a break, to regroup. Araya is returning to her base in Mexico, but Chris is returning to Beacon Hills. 

There are things he needs to check on. 

When he steps into Eichen House, it isn’t exactly what he expects, but that could be because things have changed a bit since Brunski died. It seems lighter, but he knows that’s only part of what goes on here. 

Chris asks someone for Dr. Fenris—the irony of the name never fails to amuse him—and a few minutes later, the doctor is there.

“Chris, what brings you here?” he asks as he shakes Chris’s hand.

He’s always liked Fenris’s forthright manner. He cuts to the chase and he doesn’t bullshit. 

“I’m here to see Peter Hale,” Chris answers.

Fenris raises his eyebrows. “I see. You’re not exactly family,” he replies.

“And Peter isn’t exactly an actual patient here either.”

“Yes, but you can see why I might be leery of letting an Argent in to see a Hale.”

Chris appreciates the honesty. “I have questions. Questions about Kate. I think he might be able to help me find her.”

“I see. Well, I’ll take you to see him. Whether or not you get anything out of him is another matter. And, we’ll have to sedate him.” 

“Why? Isn’t he in a cell?” 

“Well, yes, but his cell mate is dangerous. Trust me. You don’t want to spend any time with Valeck.” 

He wants to ask why Peter is in a cell with this man, but then remembers that Peter can fend for himself very well, thank you. Chris waits in the room Fenris directs him to, and a few minutes later two orderlies come in, half-dragging a clearly drugged, and shackled, Peter between them. They deposit him in one of the chairs and leave, closing the door behind them.

Chris takes him in, absorbs every detail. Peter looks wan, exhausted. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and his skin and hair seem dull. _This place is killing him_ , Chris thinks.

“Come to gloat?” Peter asks, voice hoarse, like he’s been screaming.

“No,” Chris tells him. 

Peter scoffs.

“No. I just . . . . I needed to see you.”

Leaning back in his seat, Peter lifts his cuffed hands to his face and says, “Have a good look." 

“You look terrible,” Chris tells him.

Peter laughs. “What did you expect? This isn’t a spa, and my roommate makes Hannibal Lecter seem like a kitten.”

“I won’t apologize for this, Peter. You went too far.”

“It’s my power. My family’s power. I was going to rebuild what yours destroyed!” 

“Enough, Peter!” Chris’s yell surprises even himself. “Enough,” he continues, quieter now. “Enough blame. We’ve all paid the price for my father. All of us. Me, you, Allison, Derek, Scott, Stiles . . . all of us, but you’re the only one who keeps letting it twist you like this. It’s time to let it go, Peter.” Chris rubs his hand over his face. “Just let it go.”

“I don’t know how,” Peter admits. “I’ve been angry for a very long time, Chris. I tucked it away once. Took a second chance at happiness, and then your family destroyed it, again. The only thing left behind is this.”

Chris is a glutton for punishment. He knows this—laughingly thinks to himself that it is probably something he can blame his father for. He also knows he’s going to give Peter a chance. He stands and walks over to Peter, squeezes his shoulder and bends to kiss the top of his head before saying, “I think there’s something more than just this. And I can wait.”

Peter is silent as Chris knocks on the door for the orderlies. As they walk in and grab Peter by the arms, standing him up, Chris tells him, “I’ll be back.”

Walking away this time feels strangely easier, but maybe it’s because he knows he can come back. 

****************************************

_He sets down the phone and grips the edge of the table to steady himself._

_“What’s wrong?” Marin asks._

_“The Hales are dead,” Deucalion tells her, since he overheard the entire conversation._  

_“What?!”_

_Alan bows his head. “Not all. There was a fire. Derek and Laura were at school. Peter is in a coma.”_

_“I’m sorry, Alan. Talia was a great woman, great alpha. I wish she had heeded her own advice about the Argents a bit better,” Deucalion tells him._

_“We don’t know it was the Argents,” Marin interjects. She rises and squeezes her brother’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Alan. I know what Talia meant to you.”_

_“The Argents have been back in Beacon Hills for months now. They waited until I was out of town. I’m usually there on the full moon.”_

_“Maybe it was an accident. A coincidence.”_

_Alan does not believe in coincidences._

_“What are you going to do?” Deucalion asks._

_“First, I’m going to help Laura and Derek. She’ll be the alpha now, and will need someone to guide her. Then,” he looks at his sister and Deucalion, “I’m going to restore the balance.”_

_“Alan! You can’t get involved.”_

_“No, but I can ensure balance.”_

_“Can I help?” Deucalion asks, because when it comes to the Argents, Alan isn't the only one with a score to settle._

_“Yes. You can stay away from Beacon Hills. I know what you’re doing, what you did to your pack; what Ennis did. Don’t drag Laura into this.”_

_Deucalion’s eyes flash red, then he inclines his head. “On my honor, and out of respect for their mother, I won’t approach the remaining Hales.”_

_Alan nods, then grabs his keys and turns to leave._

_“For now,” Deucalion adds._  

_Alan knows it’s the best assurance he’s going to get at present._  

_When Alan finally finds Laura and Derek huddled at the sheriff’s office, they’re sitting on chairs looking shell shocked. Laura is practically shaking with the effort to control her new powers, and Derek has crumpled in on himself. Alan watches as Deputy Stilinski presses a cup of hot chocolate into Derek’s hand._

_The deputy is a good man. Alan knew his wife well. He knew everyone with the spark in the area. It’s why he recognizes Stiles the moment the young boy comes to stand in the doorway next to him, staring wide eyed at Derek and Laura._

_“Hello, Stiles,” Alan says._

_“Hi, Dr. Deaton. What are you doing here?"_  

_“I was good friends with the Hales. I’m here to help Laura and Derek.” He sees Laura look his way at those words._

_“Oh.”_  

_Stiles goes quiet and Alan steps forward._  

_“Dr. Deaton?”_

_Alan turns back to look at him. “Yes, Stiles?”_

_“Just . . . just don’t tell them everything will be all right, okay? People kept telling me that after . . . after my mom. It’s not true and it sucks to hear.”_

_“Okay, Stiles.”_

_After he gathers Laura and Derek, assuring the sheriff that they will stay with him until they are back on their feet, he herds them out of the sheriff’s station. As they leave, he sees Stiles in the officers’ pens, eyes glued to Derek as he walks by._

_When the dust settles and what’s left of the bodies has been buried, the insurance money sorted, and Laura has control over her alpha powers, Alan tells them to run. They aren’t safe. Not from the Argents—Derek flinches every time Alan says their name, leaving Alan to wonder just how close they got to him—and not from Deucalion and his ilk._

_He promised Talia that he would take care of Derek, and this is the best solution he can think of._

_“I need to stay with Peter,” Laura argues. “He needs me, us.”_

_“You need to keep Derek safe,” Alan replies. “You’re an untested alpha, with only one functioning beta. You’ve lost nearly your entire pack, and that makes you weak. You’re not only an open target for the Argents or even rogue hunters, but also easy pickings for another pack wanting to take your territory. If you leave, they can’t confront you, can’t claim the territory from you. There will still be a Hale here, and when you’re ready, you can return.”_

_When Laura and Derek have gone, Alan turns his attention to the Argents._

_When Gerard walks into Alan’s clinic, the look on his face is smug. “Alan, you’re still here?”_

_“Gerard. Why wouldn’t I be?”_

_Gerard scoffs. “I hear you’re out of an emissary job.”_

_“Ah, well,” he gestures around the clinic, “as you see, I’m not entirely without work. Now, what can I do for you?"_  

_“You can tell me where the bitch and the whelp went.”_

_“No. I don’t think so. However, I do think it’s best if you and your family left Beacon Hills for a while.”_

_“Is that a fact?” Gerard is so self-satisfied, Alan wants to slug him, but he has something better in mind._  

_“Yes. I have it on good authority that a delegation of emissaries is on their way to conduct their own investigation of the fire at the Hale House.”_  

_Gerard visibly pales. It’s one thing to play the heavy against someone like Alan, but quite another to go up against the collective power of a full circle of druids._

_Alan holds out his hand. “Goodbye, Gerard.”_

_“I’m sure we’ll see each other again, Alan,” he says as they shake hands. Gerard doesn’t notice Alan slipping Gerard’s watch off his wrist before he stomps out of the clinic._

_Later, he’ll wonder if Gerard felt it—the moment the curse snapped into place._  

_“An eye for an eye,” Alan whispers._  

_It will take years for the curse to run its course, and Alan will one day regret that it touches someone innocent of these machinations. However, balance must be maintained. Promises must be kept._

_*************************************************_

“I have a front door,” Stiles says when he finds Derek in his room, window open.

“I know. Your father let me in through it before he left." 

Stiles just stares at him for a moment, then says, “So, what did you need?” His tone is casual, but Derek can hear the slight rabbiting of his heart, smell the faint scent of sadness that has begun to replace what used to be arousal.

“Research?” Stiles cracks his knuckles before sitting down at his computer. 

“No, not research.” 

“Oh-kay,” Stiles looks at him. “So . . .?”

“Braeden left.”

Stiles stands and his face goes through a range of emotions, but he says, “Hey man, I’m sorry. Sucks. You okay—”

Derek steps forward, cups Stiles’s face in his hands and cuts him off with a kiss. It’s short and chaste, but effective. When Stiles opens his eyes, Derek asks, “Is that okay?”

Stiles jumps back from him so quickly, it’s like he was electrocuted. “No. No! That’s not okay!”

Derek feels like he’s been gutted with a blade. “Sorry. Sorry,” he mumbles and moves toward the open window.

“Don’t you dare leave!” Stiles yells at him. 

Derek freezes.

“You don’t get . . . you . . . a year ago you were pretty vehement when you told me, how did you put it? ‘Would never want a skinny spaz who talks too much.’” Stiles paces back and forth in front of him.

Oh, how Derek wishes he could undo that night. Wishes, instead, that he’d kept kissing Stiles, and anything else Stiles wanted. Wishes he could take back the way he pushed Stiles off him, and his harsh words.

“And what now? Braeden leaves you and what? I’m a good replacement? A nice little fuck on the side until the next screwed up woman in your life comes around?” Stiles pokes him in the chest. “Well, fuck you Derek. Fuck. You.”

Derek grabs the hand that Stiles has been poking him with, and when Stiles tries to pull it back, he tightens his grip.

“I was an idiot,” Derek says quickly. “I didn’t mean anything I said that night.” 

Stiles stares at him. “Then why the fuck did you say it?”

“Because you were so young, you still are, and I’m a fucking mess. My life is a fucking mess, and wanting you is wrong but I just . . . I can’t anymore, Stiles. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter, that you don’t matter.” 

“You fucking idiot,” Stiles interrupts him. “All our lives are fucking messes! You don’t get to decide for me if I want your mess or not! And young? Young, Derek? I had a thousand year old demon living in me. Some days it’s all I can do not to feel ancient! 

“Do you have any idea what it was like to watch you with Jennifer? With Braeden? To know you’d been with Kate? To think that I could never be what you needed, what you wanted? Do you have any idea what that’s done to me, Derek? I love you, you asshole! I’ve been in love with you for so long now, I don’t think I know how not to be anymore.” 

Derek pulls on Stiles’s arm again, pulling him close and folding them both down to their knees. 

“Me too. God, me too. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mutters over and over as they cling to each other. “I’m here. I’m here, if you still want me.”

Stiles looks at him. “I always want you,” he says then kisses Derek.

This time, it’s not chaste. It’s hot and desperate, and it’s what they’ve needed for so long. Derek lets go of it all, of all the doubts and hesitations, and lets Stiles lead—lets Stiles push him down and put his mouth everywhere, take whatever he wants, whatever he needs. 

In the morning they’re awakened by a throat clearing and the gleam of sunlight reflecting off the Sheriff’s badge. Stilinski’s hand is covering his eyes, but he says, “Just make sure you finish the yard work, Stiles. Derek can help. And stay for dinner.” The last part comes out more like an order than an offer.

Derek is hiding under Stiles’s blanket, and Stiles is trying to remember how to breathe when they hear his father yell from downstairs, “And for God’s sake, make sure you use protection!”

Stiles snorts and starts to laugh. Derek joins him. They laugh until their sides hurt, and Derek realizes it’s the happiest he’s been in years. He feels something slot into place, something that had been missing since the fire. Something that feels like home. 

He’s pretty sure he’s never letting that go.

****************************************

_When Derek comes to, he looks at Alan and asks him why he’s helping._

_“Helping your family actually used to be a pretty important part of my life. Helping you was a promise I made to your mother.”_

_Alan wishes he could tell Derek more, but he can’t. Derek doesn’t trust him yet, doesn’t trust anyone yet, except, surprisingly, Stiles. The two of them seem instinctively drawn to protect each other. Alan warns him about Peter and Gerard, and tells him to trust Scott. It’s all he can do for Derek right now._

_Soon, Alan helps close another chapter of a story that started so long ago. The bullets do their job, and Gerard is deprived of his miracle cure. Alan checks the viscous, black blood. The outcome—Gerard’s inevitable suffering—is poetic justice._

_His sister’s shadow falling across him interrupts his musing. “You’re not planning on getting your hands dirty, are you?"_  

_“I do what I have to.”_

_“Good. I never liked you being retired anyway.”_

_Alan smiles. “Whoever said I was retired?”_  

**Author's Note:**

> *Possible trigger: there is an off-screen rape that is alluded to.
> 
> Throughout the story, you will see dialogue from the show. Specifically, lines from _Smoke and Mirrors, Visonary, Fury,_ and _Masterplan_. 
> 
> _La Bête du Gévaudan_ is referenced by Kate and Allison in _Heart Monitor_
> 
> Thank you all for reading.


End file.
